


Shut Up and Take My Money

by Attila



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8017345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attila/pseuds/Attila
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck off,” Vex says, glaring out the window at the world in general, rain and her brother combined. “I don’t want us to go broke.”</p>
<p>“We have a Van Gogh and a Renoir in the storage room,” Vax says dryly. “I don’t think that’s likely, no matter how many people you hire to help run the coffee shop.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shut Up and Take My Money

**Author's Note:**

> Absolutely no research went into the making of this fic. Just go with it.

“I’m not hiring anyone!” Vex yells across the apartment as she digs in her closet for her shoes, the red ones, which she knows must be _somewhere_.

“Well, that’s stubborn and stupid of you, so I guess I’m not surprised!” her brother yells back.

Vex sits up so fast she almost gets whiplash. She grabs a pair of black boots instead and stalks out into the kitchen, where Vax is poking in a closet.

“Don’t we have any umbrellas that aren’t broken?” he says, without turning to look at her. “It’s pouring out there.”

She throws one of her boots at the back of his head, and he ducks, the bastard. “I’m stubborn and stupid?” she says, stalking over to him and shoving him to the side to reach up to the top shelf of the closet and grab two umbrellas. She shoves one into his chest and collects her fallen boot, going to sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island so she can pull them on.

“Why do we even keep them there?” Vax says, looking at the umbrella. “And yeah, not hiring anyone is pretty stubborn and stupid.”

Vex tugs her second boot on and stands, glaring at him. “Even with Tiberius gone and Pike taking some time off, there are _six_ of us,” she says. “If six people can’t scrape together enough time to run a goddamn coffee shop—”

“We’re busy people,” Vax says, opening the door and holding it for her as she steps out of the apartment and into the hallway. “And Grog’s terrible at it, anyway, so really, there are only five of us who can do the job.”

“Bye, Trinket!” Vex calls back into the apartment as her brother closes the door and locks it. She hears a sleepy wuffle in response, and she smiles. Turning back to her brother as they walk down the hall to the stairs, she says, “Five, then, but we still have to keep the damn thing running. Or did you _want_  to not be able to launder our money anywhere?”

“Right, but customer service is a little less thrilling than knocking over Buckingham Palace,” Vax says, as they clatter all the way down the narrow staircase. “And it’s not as if we don’t have the money.”

“That is _not_  the point,” Vex says.

“Sure it’s the point,” Vax says, opening his umbrella and kicking the door wide. He ducks his head and pushes out into the sheeting rain, and Vex grimaces and does the same.

Outside, she doesn’t even bother trying to talk, just keeps her head low and her umbrella up and runs at her brother’s heels, rain spattering across her back and splashing up from the puddles onto her boots and pants. It’s a proper summer storm, and thunder crashes as they stumble up to their car. Vex slams into the driver’s seat and closes her umbrella again, tossing it carelessly into the back seat and shoving her purse into her brother’s lap.

He rolls his eyes at her, taking a couple tries to get his umbrella closed and stowed behind them as well. “Your problem,” he says, “is that you’re just miserly.”

“I’m not miserly!” Vex says, turning the car and the windshield wipers on. “I’m practical about money.” She looks back and forth down their sleepy, residential street and slowly, awkwardly starts maneuvering the car out of parallel parking.

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Vax says. “You’re practical about money like Percy was slightly annoyed at the Briarwoods.”

“Fuck _off_ ,” Vex says, glaring out the window at the world in general, rain and her brother combined. “I don’t want us to go broke.”

“We have a Van Gogh and a Renoir in the storage room,” Vax says dryly. “I don’t think that’s likely, no matter how many people you hire to help run the coffee shop.”

Vex starts driving down the street, the rain pounding on the roof like an irregular, up-tempo drumbeat. “But we don’t need to spend any money hiring someone to do something we’re perfectly capable of handling ourselves.”

“We kind of do,” Vax says. “Face it, we’ve gotten good at this whole criminal crew thing, and we pull jobs that need all of us sometimes. We can’t keep putting ‘gone fishing’ signs in the window and hoping no one gets suspicious.”

Vex sighs. “I hate paying people.”

“My sister, the criminal,” Vax says, apparently to the world at large. “We all do things we don’t want to do sometimes, Vex.”

Vex reaches to the side and flicks him on the temple, relishing his yelp of pain. “You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, and you’re so nice,” Vax mutters, and she graciously ignores him. “Look, face it. You need to hire someone, and you need to do it soon.”

She frowns. “Soon? I know Percy, Scanlan, and Grog are out of town, but—”

“I’m leaving as well,” Vax says. “Weren’t you _listening_  to me last night?”

“Probably not,” she admits. “Where are you going?”

“I want to go rob a house in Bruges,” he says.

“Any one will do?” she says, raising an eyebrow at him in the rearview mirror.

“No, a specific one,” he says. “Obviously. I’ve got it all planned out, you don’t need to worry.”

“I’m coming with you,” she says, driving through a puddle and splashing the car all up the side, soaking the windows even more. She grimaces.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You’re not going alone.”

“No, I’m not,” Vax says. He sighs. “I’m taking Keyleth.”

“Oh, are you two finally talking to each other again?” Vex says, pleased. “Thank god.”

“We thought we’d work things out over a heist,” Vax says flatly. “Figure out how to just be friends again. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Fine, fine,” Vex says. “You’re so tetchy.”

“Oh, I’m tetchy,” he says, sounding amused again. “I’m not the one who had a temper tantrum because I suggested hiring someone to do a job we clearly need done.”

“I did not have a _temper tantrum_ ,” she says, and that argument lasts them all the way to the coffee shop.

She parks neatly on the side of the road, and they brace themselves for the storm as they race from the car to the front door of the shop, huddling under the awning as Vex searches through her keys until she finally manages to open it up.

“It’s a nightmare out there,” Vax says, shaking his head like Trinket after a swim.

“It suits you,” she tells him.

“Thanks, sister dearest,” he says. “Thank god we run a _coffee_ shop. I’d kill a man for a hot drink right now.”

“Keep your violence to yourself, the cappuccino maker is right there,” Vex says, going into the backroom to check on the pastry delivery from the bakery a few streets down. Starting to stock up the glass counter, she adds, “It’s bad enough we pay for all these sweets, you really want me to start paying someone to watch them?”

“Oh, yes, like any of us can bake,” Vax says, fiddling with the coffee and frowning at the machine. “This thing is so temperamental.”

“It doesn’t like mornings either,” Vex says absently, taking out a raspberry scone for them to share and putting it on a plate. After a moment, a piece of banana bread joins it. “And I did let you talk me into ordering in the food.”

“Yes, and it was a relief for us all,” he says. “And have we lost any money? No.”

“It’s different,” Vex says. “We can charge more for pastries that actually taste good. We can’t charge more for actually having to pay someone to work the till.”

“Maybe if they’re especially attractive,” Vax says.

“Brother!” Vex says. “Are you suggesting that I’m not attractive enough for us to charge a hot barista fee?”

“I would never,” he says. “After all, that’s my face too.” His phone chimes, and after a moment, he says, “Keyleth wants to meet up to talk about Bruges.”

“Now?” Vex says. “It’s the crack of dawn.”

“She likes being up with the sun,” he says. “She’s a morning person.”

“God,” Vex says. “No wonder you two broke up.”

“Oh, shut up,” Vax says. “I’m up now, aren’t I? Can you run the shop without me for a few hours?”

“Well, apparently I’m _going_  to be for the foreseeable future, since all my friends are abandoning me,” she says. “But yes, yes, go.”

“You wouldn’t have to if you’d just hire someone else,” he says, going out from behind the counter again and grabbing his umbrella. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Fine,” she says. “Have fun with Keyleth.”

“Yeah,” Vax says, his mouth twisting bitterly. “Sure.”

She rolls her eyes. “New rule: no more office romances.”

“This isn’t an office,” he says. “I don’t think it counts.”

“No more romances period,” she says. “I’m banning dating. It’s officially no longer allowed.”

“Who died and put you in charge?” he says. “I know, I know, no one had to. Well, that’s fine with me, at any rate, I’m not exactly wild about trying again right now. We’ll see how long you can last, though.”

“Just because I like flirting—” Vex says.

“Yeah, just because. See you around, sister,” Vax says, and he ducks back out into the pouring rain.

Vex contents herself with making a face at his retreating back and frowns at the empty coffee shop. “I don’t need any help,” she tells it. “Absolutely not.”

—

At ten, once the nightmare-ish, migraine-inducing morning rush has finally died down, she grudgingly makes a sign saying, “NOW HIRING. Please inquire within,” and hangs it in the window.

When her brother gets back, he smirks at her, and she throws a towel at him and tells him to get to work.

—

Without her brother around, it’s quiet and lonely, and she starts bringing Trinket to the shop and letting him sleep in the back rooms. She and Vax have never really been apart this long before, but letting him have some space to talk to Keyleth is a good thing, and she knows it.

Besides, he calls every day, at varying hours, and she always picks up, even at three in the morning, like the codependent assholes they are. They talk around how it’s going with Keyleth and discuss the heist in code, just in case. It’s a straight burglary, since neither Vax nor Keyleth has ever had much skill as a con artist, but those can sometimes be the most dangerous.

The coffee shop rolls along, though she’s increasingly exhausted and desperate to actually just bite the bullet and hire someone, money or no money. It’s not as though she hasn’t had applications, but most of them are from high school or college students looking for a little part-time work to supplement their income, and their schedules are disasters and very strict.

It’s the middle of the afternoon on a Wednesday, and aside from the small group of regulars sitting at the small tables with a laptop or a book, it’s pretty dead. She’s wiping down the counter, idly nodding along to the radio, when the bell above the door tinkles and she looks up, plastering a bright smile to her face automatically.

The smile becomes distinctly more flirtatious as she looks the newcomer up and down, and when she makes it back up to his face, she finds him giving her the same appreciative glance as he walks up to the counter.

“Hello,” he says. Light accent, though not one she can place—that’s more Percy’s thing.

“Hello,” she says. “Can I get you something?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he says. “I’m inquiring within.”

“Huh?” she says. “Oh, the job!” She looks him over again, trying to reevaluate him through the lens of potential employee, instead of incredibly hot stranger. At least he doesn’t look like a college student, though she supposes he could just be late getting to it. “Do you have any customer service experience?”

“Yes,” he says. “I used to be a bartender. Also a bouncer.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Seriously? Well, if you’re hoping to deal with less assholes if your customers aren’t drunk, I’m warning you right now, corporate types looking to get their caffeine fix before work aren’t any better.”

“Then it sounds like you could use someone good at dealing with the rowdy types,” he says easily, seemingly unconcerned.

“Also, the tips will be a _lot_  worse,” she says. “Most people don’t bother tipping their barista at all, honestly. And I’ve been a bartender, so I know what kind of tips you’re used to getting. I used to rake in a couple hundred dollars a night.” His eyebrows actually rise a little at that, and she shrugs. “Well, I worked at an all-female staffed bar right next to a strip club, to be fair.”

“Ah,” he says. “Tell me, are you trying to talk me out of applying for this job?”

“No,” she says. “But if I hire you, I’d rather you didn’t decide it’s not for you after a week and leave me in the lurch.”

“In that case, rest assured I know what I’m getting into,” he says.

“All right,” she says dubiously. “Do you know how to make coffee?”

“Only on much smaller, simpler machines,” he says. “But if I could learn how to make a cocktail, how much harder can it be?”

“You’ve never tried to use our machines,” she says, scowling behind her at them. “I’ve got this friend who likes building things, and he keeps improving them. And they do make better coffee, but they also tend to break if you look at them wrong.”

“I’ll be sure to look at them _very_ nicely, then,” he says, leaning on his elbows and looking at her with heavy-lidded eyes. It’s a good look, she has to admit.

“I bet you will,” she says and winks, before she remembers she probably shouldn’t be hitting on someone she’s considering hiring. She frowns. “How’s your schedule?”

“Open,” he says, which is promising.

“Like, how open?” she presses. “Because I technically run this place with five of my friends—well, sort of four—except everyone’s always busy or out of town, and our schedules tend to be random and abruptly full. Hence the hiring someone to help out.”

“If I work more than forty hours a week, I expect overtime,” he says promptly, which is also nice, because at least it means he’s actually thinking about the question and not just trying to tell her what he thinks she wants to hear. “If I’m going to be consistently working forty hours a week, I think you’re legally obligated to supply benefits. Other than that, I don’t have any other job, my social life isn’t fixed and is very malleable, and I’d rather be working than not. I enjoy making money.”

“A man after my own heart,” she says, before she can stop herself. He just smiles at her. “Just so I can be sure I’m understanding this correctly,” she says slowly, “you’re indicating your willingness to work pretty much any time, for as much time as I ask, as long as I pay you?”

“In essence,” he says, apparently unperturbed by how ridiculous that is.

“Out of curiosity,” she says slowly, “if I, say, called you in the middle of the day and said, ‘hey, something’s come up, can you be here in half an hour,’ you would say...?”

“I only live fifteen minutes away, so I could do a little bit better than that,” he says. He eyes her, a small grin playing over his lips. “Of course, I can’t promise I won’t be at the grocery store, or something like that. And I do have a life. But generally speaking, I would rather be getting paid.”

Vex becomes aware, slowly, that she’s gaping at him, and she quickly closes her mouth. “Damn,” she says, with feeling. “What did you say your name was?”

“Jarett,” he says. “Jarett Howarth.”

She nods, her fingers tapping on the counter as her mind whirls. “So, what’s the catch, Jarett Howarth?” she says. “Did you kill a man in Reno just to watch him die? I promise I won’t tell.”

“I’ve never even been to Reno,” he says.

“That’s a very specific denial,” she tells him. She sticks her hand out. “Well, Jarett, I’m Vex’ahlia Byroden, but you can call me Vex. I run this place, for my sins.”

“Do you have a lot of sins?” he says, shaking her hand and looking amused.

“Too many to count. If you leave your information, I’ll give you a call in a couple days, okay? I’m in charge here, basically, but I do like to run things by the other people who own it. Name, address, ways of getting in touch with you—full resume header stuff, please.”

“Sure,” he says, taking the notepad and pen she hands him and scribbling down his name, address, phone number, and email address. “Give me a call.”

“Can’t wait,” she says and watches him walk out the door. It’s a good view. She really, really hopes he isn’t trying to arrest or kill them.

—

After she closes up and leaves the shop, she throws her things into the car and coaxes Trinket into the trunk, where he sits, head bent slightly, since it isn’t quite tall enough for him, drooling onto the back seat. She blows him a kiss.

She drives home more slowly than she usually does, thinking hard. When she and Trinket finally get back up into the apartment, she settles down on the couch with him curled up at her feet and pulls out her phone.

“Asum,” she says, when the call connects. “It’s Vex’ahlia.”

“Vex, of course,” Asum says. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a background check,” she says.

“That’s simple enough,” he says. “Name?”

She pulls out the slip of paper Jarett had written his information on and reads it out slowly. “It might be nothing,” she says, “but I’m a suspicious bastard, and he’s a little too good to be true.”

“A healthy attitude,” Asum says. “Did you have a particular suspicion?”

She shrugs, then realizes he can’t see her. “No idea. Fed plant? Though I really fucking hope they haven’t finally caught up to us. Briarwood or K’Varn loyalist, I suppose, looking for revenge?”

“So really just anyone,” Asum says dryly. “Thank you.”

She sighs. “It really might be nothing. But I haven’t kept myself and my brother alive by assuming things like that. And if it’s something, I’d like to know.”

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll let you know what I can find.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I appreciate it.” She hangs up the phone and scratches Trinket’s soft head. He slobbers on her foot affectionately. “Good boy,” she whispers. “What should we do for dinner, huh? You hungry? Yeah, I bet you are.”

—

Asum calls her in the middle of the lunch rush, because of course he does. She grabs her cell, hits answer, sticks it under her ear, and says, “Hang on, give me a minute or two, don’t go anywhere.” She slams it back down onto the counter and smiles brightly at the frazzled looking woman standing in front of her. “What can I get you?”

The second she has even a tiny lull, she grabs her phone and says, “Okay, I want the full report later, but right now, quickly—evil or not evil?”

“Not evil,” Asum says. She can practically hear his raised eyebrows. “But before you do anything rash, he has worked for the government.”

She’s in the middle of pulling the phone away from her ear, but she shoves it back immediately. “I thought you said he wasn’t evil!”

“He’s a veteran,” Asum says. “He fought in Afghanistan. As far as I can tell, he has no further governmental ties, but I thought it was worth mentioning. He also has a few minor shoplifting convictions, but nothing for years, and nothing organized.”

“No kidding,” she says. “Hang on, I’ve got another customer.” As soon as she’s got another second, she says, “Any chance the feds kept further contact with him off the books?”

“He was just a soldier, not special forces or anything,” Asum says. “But I did look, since it’s you, Vex’ahlia. If they’re keeping him on the payroll, they’re hiding it better than they ever have before.”

“How long since his tour?” Vex says thoughtfully as she steams some milk.

“Several years,” Asum says. “I could give you the details, but I was under the impression you were in a rush.”

“I am,” Vex says, sliding the drink across the counter and yelling, “Rose!” She starts making a cappuccino and says, “What’s he been doing since then?”

“Working at a bar,” Asum says. “It closed down about a few weeks ago. He seems to have been trying to get work since then.”

“And the bar had—”

“No mob or otherwise criminal ties,” Asum says impatiently. “I’m not an amateur.”

“Of course, sorry,” Vex says. “I’m just paranoid. So, as far as you can tell...?”

“He’s clean,” Asum says. “He’s just a man who wants to work for you.”

“I didn’t tell you he wanted to work for me,” she says. The silence that greets this is very patient. She rolls her eyes. “Oh, of course, sorry. All right. Can I call you tonight to get the full report?”

“Of course,” he says. “Always a pleasure, Vex.”

“Thanks, Asum,” she says. “I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he says, and she hangs up, finishing the drink and handing it to the man waiting impatiently at the counter.

“How would your manager feel about you taking personal calls during work?” he asks her.

She smiles brightly at him. “I am my manager,” she says. “And that was a work call. But thanks for looking out for my business practices!” _Asshole_ , she adds mentally. She pulls out her phone again and keys in a new number.

“Hello?” a very pleasant voice says after a moment.

She grins. “Jarett? It’s Vex, from Greyskull.”

“How nice to hear from you.”

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” she says. “When can you start?”

“Right now,” he says.

“Funny, I was really hoping you were going to say that,” she says, smiling at the girl who comes up to the counter and holding up a finger. “How close did you say you lived to here?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he says, sounding amused.

“You’re a saint,” she says. “You know how to work a till, right?”

“Of course.”

“Excellent,” she says. “You’re just going to do that, and I’ll work the coffee machines of death and explosive froth for now.”

“I can’t wait,” he says, and she hangs up, beaming at the girl waiting patiently and apologizing. She hates to admit her brother’s ever right about anything, but frankly, she never would’ve been able to keep this up by herself.

—

She decides she doesn’t even really want Asum’s long report as confirmation that Jarett is Good People that afternoon, after the rush has died down and they duck into the office in back to grab tax paperwork.

“Oh,” Jarett says, “you have a Newfoundland.”

Vex stares at him as he crosses straight to Trinket, who has picked up his head and started wagging his tail. Jarett crouches down and lets Trinket smell his hand, and when he gets licked and slobbered on a little, just grins and scratches Trinket’s ears. “I don’t see the brown ones very often,” he says. “What’s his name? Her name?”

“His name,” Vex says. “It’s Trinket.”

“Good name,” Jarett says, and then he adds, “Hi, Trinket. Good boy.”

Trinket puts his head on Jarett’s knee and looks up at him adoringly, and Vex decides right then and there that this has got to be a good person. She flatly refuses to believe otherwise.

“Is he here every day?” Jarett says, looking up at her.

“Not every day,” she says. “But he stays in here, and if you pet him, you have to wash your hands afterwards, so we don’t have to worry about health code violations.”

“Makes sense,” Jarett says. He pats Trinket’s head and grins at her. “You had paperwork?”

“Oh,” Vex says. “Uh, yeah. I’ll just—get that.”

—

That night, after she calls Asum and gets every scrap of reassurance she possibly can that Jarett is not planning either their untimely murder or arrest, Vax calls.

“So, I hired someone,” she says, without bothering to greet him. “Go ahead and be smug and right. I hate you.”

He laughs for a full minute while she makes faces at the wall of their apartment, trusting that he’ll probably know she’s doing it. When he finally gets himself under control, he says, “So, what are they like? Are they hot?”

“Super hot, but that is _not_ why I hired him, brother,” she says. “Stop _laughing_.”

“All right, all right,” he says, sniggering. “So he’s super hot. Anything else?”

“Super hot, knew Trinket was a Newfie, almost certainly not a fed,” she says.

“Hang on, what was that last one?”

“Trinket likes him, and I had Asum do a background check, it’s fine.”

“Vex—”

“It’s _fine_ ,” she says. “If you want to worry about it, you can do it when you get home. How’s Bruges? How’s Keyleth?”

“Fine,” he says. “I think we’ll be back in a week or two. Sightseeing gets boring after a while. But it’s less awkward.”

“Good,” she says. “It’s been horrible, I’m glad you’re working things out.”

“Yeah,” Vax says. “It’s—fine. We’ll be fine. I think we both know this is better.” He sighs. “Tell me more about the hot barista.”

Vex groans, letting her head fall back against the couch. Trinket licks her ankle in solidarity. “ _Fine_. But only because you’re on an incredibly awkward vacation. And I expect souvenirs!”

“Only the best for you, sister,” he says, and she knows that means the jewels are practically in their hands.

—

When she lets Jarett in the next morning to help her set up, she tries very, very hard not to be into the way he smiles at her and goes into the office to say quickly say hello to Trinket. It only sort of works, and she quickly starts him on stocking the baked goods while she tries to coax the coffee machines to life.

“So these other friends of yours,” Jarett says as he delicately arranges cookies, “who sometimes work here. Are they around often?”

Vex shrugs. “Sure. It’s just a bad time right now. Sometimes we’re all gone, actually, but that’s hopefully not for too long at a time. We try to stagger it.” She eyes him, trying to decide if he’s fishing for information because he’s evil, or if he’s just curious. At last, she says, “It was a sudden rash of vacations, actually. Percy—he’s the one who designed the demon coffee machines—is off visiting his sister. Scanlan and Grog are visiting a different friend of ours who moved away. My brother, Vax, is off on an awkward trip with Keyleth, the last of them.”

“An awkward trip?”

“They broke up a few weeks ago,” she says. “Pretty awkward.”

Jarett glances up at her and smiles. “Extremely. Non-refundable airline tickets?”

“Oh, no, they decided on the trip after they broke up,” Vex says. “They’re trying to be less awkward and start being okay with each other again, because they have all the same friends, and the custody battle over us would be horrifying.” She pats the side of the coffee maker and boosts herself up onto the counter, watching Jarett stack banana bread.

“That doesn’t look like it’s working yet,” he says, nodding at the machine.

“It’s not,” she says shamelessly. “It doesn’t like mornings. Sometimes you just have to let it figure itself out for a bit.”

“Ah,” he says. “A groggy coffee maker.”

“Pretty much,” she says. “I guess I could help you with that.”

“No need,” he says. “That’s what you pay me for, after all.”

“That’s true,” she says, propping her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hands. “And I had better be getting my money’s worth, because I hate paying people.”

He smiles up at her lazily. “In that case, please do tell me if I’m not giving satisfaction. I’d hate to disappoint you.”

She laughs. “I’ll do that.”

—

Percy gets home first, fuming about people not listening to Cassandra and muttering about how derelict and defunct the Whitestone mob is becoming while Vex drives him home from the airport. She nods and makes soothing sounds and discreetly watches him to make sure that he’s not about to go on a bloody revenge spree again. One bout of mass violence is quite enough for her, frankly—she’s a thief, not a killer.

She also texts Cassandra at a red light to ask if everything’s all right, and receives reassurances that it is, Percy is just overprotective and probably needs a distraction.

“I need you to come to Greyskull and show our new barista how to use the coffee makers,” she announces, interrupting him.

He blinks at her. “We have a new barista? You _hired_ someone?”

“Yes,” she says. “Try to look so shocked, darling. And he’s working in—an hour, since your flight was at the crack of dawn, so we might as well go right there.”

“What?” he says. “Oh—well, all right, I suppose. You know how to use the coffee makers, though. You must’ve been using them for the last few weeks, at least.”

“I know how to use them,” she agrees. “That doesn’t mean I know how to teach someone _else_ to use them. It’s a very different thing. I’m not even sure what I’m doing half the time.”

“Well, it’s not hard,” Percy says.

“Last time Grog tried, one blew up,” Vex says dryly. “I think you might be using a little too much of your flair for explosives in our lovely machines that are only meant to make _coffee_.”

Percy opens his mouth and then closes it. “All right, yes, fair point.”

“Good,” Vex says. “I’m almost glad you got here so early in the morning. At least you can make yourself useful.”

“I’m always useful,” Percy says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she says. “You keep telling yourself that, darling.”

When they pull up in front of the coffee shop, Jarett is already waiting out front, leaning casually against the window and idly tapping at his phone. He looks up when they get up and smiles at her, just a little, with one corner of his mouth. “Did Trinket turn into a handsome prince?” he says lightly.

“Don’t be silly,” Vex says. “Trinket would be hairier. And even more handsome.”

“Hey,” Percy says, but without any real offence.

“Plus, the coloring’s all wrong,” Vex says, making a play of inspecting Percy closely. “Really, Jarett, I don’t know where you get these ideas.”

“Oh, of course,” Jarett says. “My mistake, and my most sincere apologies to the real, more handsome Trinket.” They grin at each other.

“I assume this is our new barista?” Percy says.

“No, random strangers frequently ask me if my friends are my dog transformed into a human,” Vex says. “Yes, Percival, this is our new barista. Percy, Jarett. Jarett, the man you can blame for the coffee makers of doom.”

“Oh, come on, that seems a little extreme,” Percy says.

“Lovely to meet you,” Jarett says, still with that half-grin that says he knows a joke the rest of them haven’t quite caught up to. “I do enjoy being able to put a face to the name I assume I will shortly be cursing.”

“That’s it exactly, Jarett, well done,” Vex says. “Anyway, he’s been on plane for hours, he’s probably murderously exhausted, and I’ve brought him here to show you how to use the machines, so this should go excellently.”

Jarett shrugs unconcernedly. “Can’t wait.”

“See?” Vex says, turning to Percy. “Isn’t he wonderful?”

“I can certainly see why you like him,” Percy says.

“Now that you’re back,” Vex says, unlocking the door, “I’m going to make you start working here again, so you two had better get along, all right?”

“I can’t think of any reason why we wouldn’t,” Jarett says. “Unless—did you kill a man in Reno just to watch him die?”

“What?” Percy says. “Why, did you?”

“I’ve never even been to Reno,” Jarett says, and Vex laughs and laughs as she ushers both of them inside.

—

It’s lovely having Percy back, Vex decides, not least because one night when they’re hanging out, idly channel surfing and discussing security at the Art Institute, she says, “God, it’s been absolutely ages since the last time I stole anything.”

Immediately, he sits up straight, grinning oddly. “I’m going to say something that sounds very stupid, but I promise I have a reason.”

“Oh, no,” Vex says, but she grins right back. “Do tell.”

He looks at her, smirking just a little. “How do you feel about stealing five hundred thousand dollars from the mafia tonight?”

And that’s about how she ends up leaning against a building in an alley several hours later, gasping for breath and with a bullet lodged in her side. She slides slowly down to the ground, fishes her phone out of her pocket, and then calls Vax, burglary in Bruges or no, because that’s the only thing she can think of.

“This isn’t a great time,” he says when he picks up. He’s whispering, which means it’s almost certainly a _terrible_ time, and she loves him even more for answering anyway.

“I’ve been shot,” she says. “What do I do now?”

There’s dead silence for a moment, and then he says, “ _What_?”

“Shh, don’t forget to keep your voice down,” she says. “I said, I’ve been shot. What do I do now?”

“I heard you the first time,” Vax says, sounding angry, but at least he’s whispering again. “And for starters, you call someone who isn’t in _fucking Europe_.”

“I couldn’t think of anyone else,” she says, staring up at the stars. They’re very bright. “No one’s here right now.”

“Isn’t Percy back?” Vax says. “Call Percy. Hang up and call Percy, and then call me back immediately.”

“Percy’s busy,” Vex says dreamily. “We’re robbing the mafia.”

“You’re fucking _what_?”

“It’s so much money.”

“I don’t care about the goddamn money,” Vax says. “You’ve been _shot_. Who are you going to call?”

“Ghostbusters,” she murmurs.

“ _No_ , Vex’ahlia. Call someone in the city. Who’s in the city?”

Vex thinks about it, though her brain seems to be working very slowly tonight. “Oh,” she says. “I know who’s in the city. I’ll call you back.”

“Vex—” she hears, just before she hangs up. It takes her a moment to go through her contacts, but eventually, she puts the phone to her ear again.

“Vex?” a voice says. “A little late for the coffee shop to be open, isn’t it?”

“Hi,” she says. “You can’t call an ambulance.”

There’s a long moment, and then Jarett says, “What?”

“You can’t call an ambulance,” Vex repeats patiently. “I need you to come and get me. And not call an ambulance, like I said. That part’s important.”

There’s another beat of silence, and then Jarett says, “Where are you?”

“Um,” Vex says. “I’m in an alley.”

“Where’s the alley?” Jarett says evenly, though she can hear him moving quickly on the other end of the phone line.

“I’m not sure,” she admits, after a moment.

Jarett takes a deep breath. “Does your phone have the GPS tracking turned on?”

She snorts weakly. “No. I don’t want people to be able to find me.”

“Right now, you do,” he says. “Vex, do you have _any_  idea where you are?”

She thinks about it for a long time, staring at the sky and musing that this would be a lot easier is she could triangulate her location from the stars. “I remember where I was,” she says at last. “And I think I remember how I got here.”

There’s a short pause, and then Jarett says, “Hang on one second.” She can hear him moving, and then he says, as if he’s slightly farther away, “All right, I’ve got a map. Tell me.”

She does, albeit a little slowly and with a lot of backtracking. “Got that?” she says at last, coughing a bit.

“Yes,” he says. “Stay on the line.”

“No, I can’t,” she says. “I told my brother I’d call him back.” She hangs up over the sound of his protest and hits speed dial one.

“Vex?” her brother says, soft and urgent.

“I called the new barista,” she says.

“You called _who_?” Vax says, sounding horrified. “Vex, he’s not one of us. He’ll call the fucking cops on you, or at least an ambulance.”

“I told him not to,” she says, though it occurs to her belatedly that she’d only mentioned the ambulance, not the police. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. You can’t stop me, I already did it.”

“I couldn’t stop you even if you hadn’t,” he mutters, sounding aggrieved.

“Probably,” she agrees. “Is this still a bad time?”

“I don’t care,” he says instantly.

“I do, if you’re literally in the middle of work. I want my souvenir, and I want my brother home safely.”

“Fuck your souvenir,” he says. “I just want you to be all right.”

“And what are you going to do from Bruges?” Vex says. “I should hang up.”

“Don’t you dare,” he says. “Don’t you _dare_ , Vex’ahlia, I’ll kill you, I’ll—”

And she drifts off, quietly falling asleep against the wall.

She wakes up when her head gets jostled and she blinks sleepily to see Jarett bending over her, taking her phone and putting it to his ear. “Hello?” he says cautiously.

“That’s my brother,” Vex says muzzily.

Jarett glances at her and smiles briefly, before saying, “Yes, I’m the new barista. Yes, she said. Yes, she’s—” He looks at her again, and his fingers ghost over her side for a moment, tugging her blood-soaked shirt away from the bullet hole. “She’ll be fine.”

“I will?” Vex says, pleased. “That’s nice.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m going to have to hang up in order to take care of her,” Jarett says, and then he does, slipping her phone into his pocket.

“He’s going to be so pissed at you,” Vex says.

“Yes, I imagine so,” Jarett says. “He sounded as though he was having a heart attack.”

“That’s Vax,” she says. “You didn’t call anyone, did you?”

“No,” Jarett says, frowning. “But it would be better if I did.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she says, her eyes drifting shut again. “Trust me.”

“All right,” he says. “Try not to die, then. I enjoy employment.”

Vex smiles. “Deal.”

She feels his arms go around her gently, and then, with a short jerk, he lifts her up into the air, without much apparent effort. “You’re very strong,” she says absently.

“Thank you,” he says, though his voice is a little tight. Apparently it’s not taking _no_  effort.

“I’m getting blood on you,” she says.

“Don’t worry. I’ll bill you.”

She makes a face. “So mean.”

He huffs out a breath that sounds a little like a laugh. “They’re cheap clothes. My car upholstery, on the other hand...”

“Oh, _no_ ,” she says.

“I’m afraid so.”

“ _Damnit_ ,” she says, and then she passes out.

—

This time, when she wakes up, she’s lying on a comfortable bed, which is a big step up, though she doesn’t recognize it at all, which is a little worrying. She pushes the comforter down a bit and winces when moving her arm pulls at her side. Looking down, she realizes she’s wearing a large, button-down shirt that definitely isn’t hers, but when she gingerly runs a hand down her stomach, she feels neat bandages circling her torso. She’s also wearing soft, cotton boxer shorts that also aren’t hers, and nothing else.

Of course, she’s also in excruciating amounts of pain, but after a moment, she remembers things relatively clearly. “Jarett?” she calls out tentatively. “You there?”

She hears movement, and then Jarett steps through the open bedroom door. “Hello,” he says. “You’re awake. And not groaning in pain. I’m impressed. I have pain killers, but nothing strong enough for what’s wrong with you.”

“Well,” Vex says, gritting her teeth. “I’ve been shot before.”

“I noticed,” Jarett says lightly, leaning on the wall. “You have scars.”

“I do,” Vex says. “You must have seen _all_ of them, what with the undressing.” She raises her eyebrows. “Did you like the view?”

“Well, it was a little marred by the blood and the gaping wound,” Jarett says, one side of his mouth raised in an easy half-smile. “But otherwise…” He shrugs. “Yes, quite a bit.”

Vex laughs and instantly moans when the movement makes her side ache. “Fuck,” she says.

“I only have ibuprofen,” Jarett says, watching her. “Unless you have somewhere I can go for better drugs.”

“Where did you get the bandages?” Vex says.

“Walgreens,” Jarett says. “The stitches are dental floss.”

Vex grins. “You do good first aid.” She yawns. “Is it a vet thing, or?”

Jarett blinks at her. “A vet thing? Ah. You know, I don’t remember ever telling you I was in the army.”

“Oh,” Vex says. “Yes. Well.”

He shakes his head, but he looks more amused than anything else. “Yes, well. _Do_ you have somewhere I can go for drugs?”

“I’m fine,” Vex says. He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t argue, and she says, “You know, I was sort of expecting you to still be on the phone with my brother.”

“I might be,” Jarett says, “but it’s my understanding that they still don’t allow phone calls on airplanes.”

“Oh, no,” Vex says.

“He seemed very concerned,” Jarett says, grinning at her. _He_ seems completely relaxed.

“Oh, no,” Vex says again. “Did he at least—” She stops.

“He said you would ask if he got you a souvenir,” Jarett says. “And he told me to tell you that yes, he did, and also he hates you.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Vex says. “Oh, that’s so wonderful of him. I’m so glad.”

“You’re easily pleased,” Jarett says. “Considering.”

“Oh, this?” Vex says, nodding at her side. “Don’t worry about it. I was only really in trouble because so many people were out of town. If Keyleth’s coming back with my brother, I’ll be fine. She’s very good with injuries, and Vax isn’t bad. Our doctor friend actually moved away, so it’s mostly me and Keyleth who do first aid, and now Vax a bit. We’re working on it.”

“I’m glad you have a system,” Jarett says blandly. “Do you need anything? Water, food?”

“Water would be lovely, thank you,” she says. “Did Percy call me, by the way?”

“He did, yes,” Jarett says. “After questioning your brother about who I could share information with, I told him you’d been shot, he seemed very upset, and then he hung up.”

Vex winces. “Damn. I should call him.”

“I’ll get you water and your phone,” Jarett says, straightening up and walking out of the room.

“Thanks!” Vex calls after him. She listens to him leave and looks around the room. It’s basically neat, but not nearly neat enough to be a guest room, which means Jarett carried her, bleeding, out of an alley last night, drove her to his apartment, stitched up her side, and let her sleep it off in his bed. And then made jokes about how hot she may or may not be with a bullet in her stomach.

He’s either definitely _not_ a fed, or definitely a fed trying to gain her trust, and she has no idea which, and that’s…bad, probably. That seems bad.

He comes back into the room with her phone in one hand, and one of those water bottles with a straw in the other. “This seemed easier to drink out of,” he says, sitting next to her on the edge of the bed and holding it to her lips.

She eyes it. “I’d say I’m not an invalid, but…”

“Don’t try it,” he says, clearly amused. “You’re not the most contrary shot person I’ve ever met.”

“Met a lot of shot people, have you?” Vex says.

“I was in the army,” he says dryly. “I know you know that.”

“Oh, right,” she says, and she awkwardly opens her mouth for the straw and obediently sucks when he puts it to her lips. When she opens her mouth and turns her head away, he puts the bottle on the bedside table and holds up her phone.

“Would you like me to dial Percy for you?” he says. “I’m not sure how much moving your arms you should do.”

“Yes, all right,” Vex says. “So overprotective.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s certainly not a word anyone’s ever applied to me before. Here I thought I was just being sensible. But if you’d rather I leave you to your own devices…”

“No, no, by all means, dial,” she says airily. “If it’ll bring you so much pleasure.”

He shakes his head at her, smiling, but he does it, holding the phone to her ear after he’s through. She hears the tinny ringing sound several times before it cuts out and goes to voicemail, and she sighs heavily.

After the beep, she says, “Percy, it’s me. I’m fine, try not to guilt yourself to death, it was not even remotely your fault. I made some stupid mistakes, and I’m absolutely fine. Call when you get a chance. Oh, and fair warning, Vax is coming back, and I think he’s likely to be a lot less understanding. You might want to avoid him for a bit. Not that I think you deserve his rage, but let’s both be honest with each other, he’s going to kill you. Call me!” She nods at Jarett, who pulls the phone away and hangs up, setting that on the bedside table as well.

“Voicemail?” he says.

“Percy can get caught up in things,” Vex says. “If he calls, and I’m asleep, can you wake me up? Oh—not that I need to stay here. I’m conscious enough to give you my address and keys, I’m sure, and if my brother’s on his way home, he can babysit.”

Jarett shrugs. “We can all talk about it once he’s here,” he says. “I’m not convinced moving you is a good idea right now. But if you want to give me your address and keys anyway, it’s probably a good idea. I assume someone needs to feed your dog.”

Vex stares at him. “Uh,” she says. “Yes, that’s true.”

“If you like, and if you think he’ll come, I can just bring him here,” Jarett says, like he doesn’t know how much that means to her. “This building is relatively pet friendly. I’m sure both of you would like to see each other.”

“Darling,” Vex says, “I could honestly kiss you.”

“Give it a shot when it’s less likely to make you pull your stitches and bleed out in my bedroom,” he says, without missing a beat. “I assume that means you’d like me to bring him?”

“Yes,” Vex says. “Yes, he’ll go with you—just tell him Vex needs him, he’s very intelligent.”

Jarett raises his eyebrows. “All right,” he says. “Does he have food I can pick up as well? A leash?”

“He doesn’t need a leash,” she says. “Food and treats are in the kitchen cabinet. I’ll give you my address, and my keys are in my pants pocket. You still have those, right?”

“They’re completely ruined, but yes,” he says.

“Fucking blood stains,” Vex says. “I liked those jeans.”

“Very inconvenient, it’s true,” Jarett says. She can’t tell whether or not he’s making fun of her.

Vex yawns. “Get something to write down my address on, and then I’m going back to sleep, and you can go get my dog.”

“Good plan,” he says.

—

Vex wakes up with a large, wet nose snuffling in her face, and she smiles. “Hi, Trinket,” she says.

Immediately, a tongue appears and licks her face enthusiastically.

“Good boy,” she says, opening her eyes and turning her head to the side. “Sorry if I worried you.”

He makes a grumbling noise and nudges her face again, resting his big, fuzzy head on the side of the bed and looking up her soulfully.

She looks around the room and finds Jarett, leaning next to the door again and watching them. “He wants to know if he can get on the bed,” she says. “How do you feel about large, furry, drool-y dogs and your furniture?”

“The sheets are machine washable, and the fur is already in the apartment,” Jarett says. “So I suppose I feel fine about it.”

“Oh, good,” she says. “Yes, it’s all right, Trinket, come on up.”

Trinket wuffles and leaps up onto the bed, making it bounce. Vex moans in pain, and he settles down immediately, curling up next to her and pushing his nose into her neck.

Vex takes several deep breaths, trying hard not to groan too audibly, and pats his head gently. “Yes, I’m fine, it’s okay,” she says. “You’re a good boy.” She looks up at Jarett again. “Did I thank you, by the way?”

“For what?” he says. “He’s a good dog.”

“He is a good dog,” Vex says. She frowns, watching Jarett’s languid posture and relaxed face, the slight smile. “I can’t help but notice you’re not asking any questions.”

“About Trinket?” he says. She just raises her eyebrows, and after a moment, he shrugs. “Why should I?”

“You picked me up from an alley with a bullet in my side,” Vex says. “How can you _not_ be asking questions?”

“If you want to get shot and go to sleep in alleys, that’s your business,” he says, sounding amused, but not especially bothered. “I’m just doing my job.”

Vex stares at him. “I don’t think that _is_ your job, actually.”

“Well,” he says, “when I asked you for a description, you told me my job was to do whatever you told me. Last night, you told me to pick you up and not call an ambulance.”

“And the, uh, stitches?” she says faintly.

He grins at her. “I was showing initiative.”

“Fuck,” Vex says.

He frowns at her. “Are you sure you don’t know where I could find some Vicodin?”

“No, it’s not that,” she says. “You’re just very—okay. Um. I’m going to give you the biggest bonus ever.”

He shakes his head immediately. “No need. Like I said, I’m just doing my job.”

“Jarett—” she says.

“No,” he says, smiling at her. “It’s fine.”

“Fine,” she says. “ _Fine_. But I’m paying you for every hour since I called you until my brother drags me out of here. And you’re getting a raise!”

“Well, I won’t say no to that,” he says. “I am going to get you some ibuprofen, though. And I hope your Keyleth brings something stronger.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she yells after him as he leaves the room again, though she definitely isn’t.

Especially since she seems to have just talked someone _into_ taking more money from her, which is a new and special and slightly disturbing experience for her.

—

After she sleeps for an absurdly long time, she wakes up to see her brother sitting on the bed next to her, braiding ribbons into a woebegone looking Trinket. Without looking up, he says, “I hate you.”

“That’s nice,” she says. “Stop torturing my dog.”

“He likes it,” Vax fucking lies.

“He does not,” she says. “Sorry, Trinket. Your uncle’s a bastard.”

“So’s your mom,” Vax says, rolling his eyes. “One of those products of our parents not getting married.”

“Fuck off,” she says blandly, looking around. Percy and Keyleth are both sacked out in a couple of chairs on one side of the room, leaning on each other and fast asleep. “Did we move into Jarett’s apartment while I was asleep?” she says.

“Yes,” Vax says. “That’s exactly what happened. We all live in this one room now. Scanlan and Grog are also coming.”

“Oh, good,” Vex says. “I’ve always wanted to live in my employee’s bedroom with all my friends. As long as me and Trinket get the bed.”

“You and Trinket can share with me,” Vax says. “I’m not sleeping on the floor just because my sister’s stupid and Percy’s worse.”

“It wasn’t Percy’s fault,” Vex says immediately. “Try not to kill him too much.”

“I punched him,” Vax says. “We’re fine now.”

“You’re morons, is what you are,” she says, but fondly.

“You’re the one who got herself shot and then called our new barista that no one else knows,” Vax says. “So I wouldn’t talk.”

“Percy’s met him,” she says. “And he’s been _very sweet_ , so keep your mouth shut. Apparently he’s even putting up with all of you invading his home. And we’re giving him a raise, also.”

Vax chokes and stops playing with Trinket’s fur for the first time. “We’re _what_?”

“We’re giving him a raise,” Vex says, with dignity. “He deserves it.”

“I’m not arguing that,” Vax says. “Keyleth said your side looked great, even considering he sewed it up with dental floss. But you _voluntarily_ agreed to pay someone more money? Is that infected after all? Is your brain sick?”

“I’ll kill you,” she tells him.

“Hey, I’m expressing a legitimate concern,” he says. “Who are you, and what have you done with my twin sister?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” she says. “I’m allowed to give people money!”

“We literally took up our current line of business because you didn’t want to give people money,” he says. “Well, that and we were flat broke and didn’t have any money to give people.”

“And wanted to become thorough disgraces to the name of Vessar,” Vex says. “Can’t forget that.”

“Right, of course,” Vax says. “But your desire to never part with any money, ever, was a contributing factor.”

“I’ve grown as a person,” she says. “Shut your stupid face.”

“My stupid face is your stupid face, so I wouldn’t talk,” he says.

“You’re such a dick,” she says. “Why are you such a dick?”

“My sister called me while I was in the middle of pulling a job with my ex-girlfriend and told me she was bleeding out in an alley because she and our stupid friend tried to rob the mafia,” Vax says. “So I’m having a great couple of days.”

“ _Tried_  to rob the mafia?” she says. “Does that mean it didn’t even work?”

Vax stares at her. “That’s what you got out of that?”

“It was a lot of money!” she says defensively. “And I got shot for it! Are you telling me we didn’t even manage to steal anything?”

“I hate you so fucking much,” he says.

“Did Percy get the money or didn’t he?”

“I can’t believe this is what you care about.”

“Percy’s fine, you’re fine, Keyleth’s fine, I don’t think Jarett’s going to call the cops on us, and I’m _going_  to be fine,” she says. “So, yes, this is what I care about.”

“Percy got the goddamn money,” Vax says. “But on the other hand, I may never speak to you again.”

“You’re so _dramatic_ , brother,” she says. “It was just a little bullet.”

“A little bullet that did a lot of damage,” he says, his voice tight. “I saw your clothes. I saw Jarett’s car. They were _covered_ in your blood. There was so much of it.”

“Hey,” she says gently, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I’m going to be okay.”

“I am never going anywhere without you, ever again,” he says, glaring at her like he thinks she’s going to argue.

“Works for me,” she says, with feeling.

“You can’t be trusted by yourself,” he says. “Don’t do it again, stubby.”

“That’s going a little far,” she says, but lightly. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. But if you want to stick around so _I_  can take care of _you_...”

“Oh, yes, that’s how this works,” he says, but he’s smiling a little again.

“That’s absolutely how this works, where have you been?” she says. She pokes his leg with her finger. “How was your awkward vacation?”

He shrugs. “I got your souvenir.”

“I know, Jarett told me,” she says. “That’s not what I meant. How are you? How are you _and Keyleth_?”

Vax glances to the side, where Keyleth is snoring lightly, her mouth open as she leans against Percy’s shoulder. “I don’t know,” he says. “All right, I guess.”

“Oh, ‘all right,’” she says. “That’s descriptive.”

“What do you want me to say?” He buries one of his hands in Trinket’s fur, who makes a rumbling sound and noses him. “It was fine. We’re fine.”

“Yeah?” she says, watching him.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’ll be—we’re working on it.” He smiles, but it looks forced. “How are you and _Jarett_?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she says. “What’s with ‘and emphasis Jarett’ about?”

“Well, you gave him a raise.”

“What, I gave him money, so now I want to fuck him?” she says. “I’m not _Scanlan_ , god. And Jarett isn’t a prostitute.”

“I never said he was,” Vax says. “I just said, you know, you are lying in his bed, in his clothes...”

“I was _shot_ ,” she says. “What exactly do you think I could have been doing with him? Oh, yes, passing out from blood loss, that was hot for both of us.”

“I’ve learned never to underestimate you, Vex’ahlia,” he says, grinning at her.

“That’s disgusting,” she says. “ _You’re_ disgusting.”

“So you don’t want to fuck him?” he says. “Not even a little bit?”

“No!” she says. He eyes her, and she can feel herself starting to blush. “Maybe! Oh, fuck off.”

“Uh-huh,” he says, smirking at her.

“I got shot, shouldn’t you be nice to me?”

“I’m never nice to you,” he says.

“You’re really not,” she mutters. “What time is it, anyway?”

“Maybe three in the morning?” he says. “Late, anyway.”

“God,” she says. “No wonder they’re asleep. Why are you awake?”

He shrugs, going back to braiding Trinket’s fur. “I slept on the plane.”

“No, you didn’t,” she says.

“No, I didn’t.”

She puts her hand on his leg. “Come on. Lie down, here, next to me. Get some sleep.”

He finishes another braid and pats it down against the rest of Trinket’s fur. “Yeah, all right,” he says, after a moment.

“Good boy,” she says, teasing, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not your dog.”

“No, my dog’s better behaved than you,” she says. “Come on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He stretches out next to her, on top of the covers and careful not to jostle her, and for a while, all she can hear is their breathing, soft and in sync.

“Next time you try to rob the mafia,” he says at last, once she’s nearly asleep again, “wait until I get home and can come with you.”

She smiles sleepily up at the ceiling. “Any time, brother.”

—

Naturally, when she wakes up the next morning and Jarett comes in to check on all of them, the first thing her brother cheerfully says is, “You’re right, he is super hot.”

“I fucking hate you,” she says. “I fucking hate you so fucking much. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Vax cackles, completely unbothered.

Jarett grins at her. “Well, that’s very flattering.”

“Shut up, you’ve seen yourself,” she mutters. “Anyway, I guess you’ve met my brother—he’s a dick, don’t listen to anything he says.”

“He seems very charming,” Jarett says.

“He’s really not.”

“Shut up, stubby,” Vax says. “Sorry about yelling at you a lot last night, Jarett.”

“You _yelled_  at _Jarett_?” Vex says, horrified.

“You were shot, and he kept hanging up on me,” Vax says. “So, there might’ve been a little bit of yelling, yes.”

“I am so sorry,” Vex says to Jarett, who’s watching them with an amused look on his face. “I’d say he’s not normally like this, but let’s be honest, he really is.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Jarett says. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Fine,” she says instantly. When he raises his eyebrows and her brother snorts, she rolls her eyes. “All right, I feel like shit. What are you going to do about it?”

“Get you the good drugs,” Vax says. “We should’ve done it last night.”

“So you do have access to better painkillers,” Jarett says. “Your sister was so adamant about not sending me for them that I assumed you didn’t.”

“We can get drugs,” Vax says.

“They’re so expensive,” Vex says, frowning. “And I don’t _need_ them.”

“Yes, you do,” they both say at once, and then they give each other deeply understanding looks.

“I’ll send Percy for them,” Vax says, ignoring her protest. He grabs the pillow he’d been using and flings it across the room, directly into Percy’s face. “Oy, Percival!”

“Huh, what?” Percy says, jerking awake and dislodging Keyleth in the process, who flails and falls onto the ground, groaning.

“Sorry, Keyleth,” Vax says. “Percy, go buy some black market Vicodin.”

“What?” Percy says again. “Oh, for Vex, of course.”

“Yes, for my sister,” Vax says. “Get up.”

“Hold on,” Jarett says. “The man just woke up. If you tell me where to go, I can get it for you. As long as you give me the money, of course.”

“He deserves it,” Vax says unsympathetically. “He got my sister shot.”

“Vax, that’s not really fair,” Keyleth says, from her sprawled out position on the floor.

“He what?” Jarett says.

Percy straightens up, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m the reason Vex’ahlia is lying in your bed bleeding right now.”

“That’s why you punched him last night,” Jarett says.

“Yeah,” Vax says.

“Ah,” Jarett says, nodding slowly. And then, in a couple of long strides, he’s crossed to the other side of the room, made a fist, and hit Percy solidly in the jaw.

Percy’s head snaps back, thudding in a painful sounding way against the wall.

“ _Jarett_!” Vex says.

“Yes,” he says mildly to Vax. “I think I can understand the urge.”

After a moment, Vax stands up, goes over to him, and holds out a hand. “Jarett,” he says, “I feel like we’re going to get along.”

“Thank you,” Jarett says, taking it after a moment. “That means a lot.”

“ _Jarett_ ,” Vex repeats. “That was not necessary!”

“It’s fine,” Percy says, rubbing his jaw. “I had that coming.”

“You did not,” Vex says. “Why does no one believe me capable of getting _myself_ shot?”

Jarett looks at her. “Did you?”

“Yes!” she says. “All right, so it wasn’t actually my idea, but I did agree.”

Jarett shrugs. “I’ll keep it in mind. I don’t actually know who shot you, though, and I have been wanting to punch someone a bit.”

“That is completely unnecessary,” Vex says, trying to sound stern instead of stupidly flattered in a dumb, teenage-girl kind of way. “I can punch people for myself.”

“At the moment, you cannot, actually,” Jarett says. “Because you’ve been shot.”

“Everyone keeps harping on how I got shot!”

“Yes,” Jarett says. “Funny how that happens.” He looks at Percy. “Sorry. You seem like a nice man.”

“I’m really not,” Percy says.

“That’s very fatalistic of you,” Jarett says. “You should work on that. And I’m only a little bit sorry, because I would definitely do it again.”

“I guess he barely knows the rest of us,” Keyleth says, still lying down, with Vax and Jarett standing over her. She turns her head to the side and looks at Vex. “You’re pretty much the only one he’s spent any time with. And you’re very likeable. I’d punch someone for you.”

“Thanks, that’s…sweet,” Vex says. “Good to know everyone would punch someone for me. But he has _met_ Percy, you know.”

“Yes,” Jarett says. “But I like you better.”

“Oh,” Vex says. She’s probably blushing, damnit. “Thanks. It is bad form to punch one of your employers, though.”

“That’s a good point,” Jarett says, nodding. “Would you like to fire me?”

“Absolutely not,” Vax says. “We’re definitely keeping you, Jarett.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Jarett says, smiling. He looks at Vex. “You could also take away my raise.”

“No,” Vex mutters. “You can keep that.”

“Vex gave him a _raise_?” Keyleth says.

“Yes,” Vax says, sounding gleeful.

“It’s just a raise!” Vex says. “So everyone can just calm down.”

“You don’t give raises often?” Jarett says, grinning at her.

“Often?” Vax says, because he’s an asshole. “Talk about over her dead body.”

“Well,” Jarett says, “in that case, I am very flattered.”

“Uh-huh,” Vex says, refusing to meet his eyes. “Someone go get me the damn Vicodin.”

—

They spend an increasingly cramped week all camping out in Jarett’s apartment before he throws out everyone but her, her brother, and her dog.

“I like your friends, Vex,” he says, walking back into the living room where she’s slumped on the couch, finally having been allowed out of bed, “but having so many of them here, all the time—”

“Oh, I was getting a little tired of them too,” she says, though mostly she’d been getting tired of Keyleth and Vax’s awkward post-breakup dance. “And Trinket’s still here, and he’s all I really need, isn’t that right, darling?”

Trinket huffs agreeably at her, curled up at her feet.

“I’m sorry, I rate after the dog?” Vax says, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island and idly playing with a steak knife.

Jarett glances at him, and his eyes flick over the knife, but he keeps right on not asking.

“Of course you rate after Trinket,” Vex says, watching Jarett. “He’s a sweetheart and also incredibly soft and fluffy. What are you?”

“Your brother!”

“A dick, yes, that’s what I thought you said,” Vex says, and Jarett laughs.

“I can kick him out as well, if you like,” he says, smiling.

Vex pretends to think about it. “He might still be useful, and it’s not as if he takes up much space.”

“But we do have to feed him,” Jarett says.

“You make a fair point,” Vex says. “That’s something we’ll definitely have to consider.”

“You two are terrible, and I want you to stop hanging out,” Vax says, lightly, and then he throws the knife across the room, where it sticks firmly in the drywall. His eyes stay firmly on Jarett’s face, amused and challenging.

Jarett looks at him and sighs heavily, and Vex watches him carefully as he still doesn’t ask.

“Toothpaste,” Jarett says. “Right?”

Vex stares at him. “What?”

“For holes in the walls, you use toothpaste, yes?” Jarett says. “I’ll go get some.”

He walks off in the direction of the bathroom, and Vex and Vax look at each other.

“Seriously?” she says.

Vax shrugs. “I guess he’s not going to ask.”

“Fucking toothpaste,” she mutters and slumps deeper into the couch cushions.

—

She’s a little disappointed to finally be able to move out of Jarett’s apartment, but mostly she’s relieved to not be confronted anymore with his half-smile and dark skin and lithe body and also her brother’s smirk any time she gets distracted during a conversation.

She spends a few weeks curled up in her own bed with Trinket, either high on painkillers or throwing things at her brother whenever he hovers too much, and then she insists he bring her to the coffee shop to supervise from one of the tables or the breakroom.

“You just want to watch Jarett make coffee,” Vax says, helping her over to a seat near the wall.

“Attractive people making caffeinated beverages and earning me money _is_ basically my entire sexuality,” Vex says cheerfully.

“I’m embarrassed to know you,” Vax says, sitting next to her and frowning at where she has her hand pressed to her side.

“Oh, no,” Vex says. “No. You have spent way too much time staring at me and scowling and being overprotective. I love you, brother, but there is no way I’m going to get into any trouble in the coffee shop. Take a walk and come back when you can be sensible about my safety again.”

“I am being sensible about your safety,” Vax says. “The last time I let you out of my sight, this happened.”

“And I’m _fine_ ,” she said. “Take a walk. I love you, but go away.”

He opens his mouth, and she shakes her head, holding her hand up and pointing out the door.

“Fine,” he said. “A walk.”

“Make it at least half an hour before I see you again,” she says, and he flips her off and walks out the door again.

After a few minutes of her idly watching Jarett and Keyleth behind the counter, Jarett comes out, carefully carrying a mug and saucer. He sets them down in front of her, sitting down on the other side of the table. “I brought you a latte.”

“Thanks,” she says, looking down at it. “Oh! You made me latte art! Is that Trinket?”

“A very bad Trinket, I’m afraid,” Jarett says. “I’m not much of an artist.”

“No, I love it!” she says, smiling up at him. “But I don’t know if I can drink it. I’d ruin him.”

“Well, that would be very sad,” he says seriously. “I could get you another, with different art. Or no art.”

“I like art,” she says. “I can’t believe you drew me Trinket.”

“Well, I thought you might be missing him, since you didn’t bring him in today,” he says.

“Vax said he might scare customers off, if we weren’t putting him in one of the back rooms,” she says. “He’s very sweet, but he’s big, so sometimes he makes people nervous.”

“It’s odd,” Jarett says. “In my experience, the biggest dogs are some of the gentlest.”

“Mine too,” she says, lifting the mug up. “Bye, Trinket,” she coos softly, and then she takes a sip. “It’s delicious.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jarett says. “I’m proud to say I’ve conquered the coffee machines at last.”

“Well, I’m very impressed,” she says, taking another sip. “You’ve achieved something great.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” he says. “I’m glad to hear you agree.”

“I’m always impressed with you,” she says, and she winks.

His grin widens. “Well,” he says. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I bet you are,” she says. “Is Keyleth all right back there on her own?”

Jarett glances back over to the counter. “It’s a slow time,” he says. “And I’m taking my break. If things get busy, I’ll go back. Don’t worry,” he adds, “I’m not slacking. You’re getting your money’s worth.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she says, smirking at him. “I’m just flattered that you want to spend your break with a poor invalid.”

“Well, I’m a philanthropist,” he says. “I enjoy helping the less fortunate.”

“You’re a giver,” she agrees. “Did I know you could make latte art?”

“I’ve been figuring it out as I went along,” he says. “Hence the very blurry dog.”

“Well, he’s very furry in real life,” she says. “I think it was cute.”

“Cute’s good,” he says lightly.

“Glad you think so.”

They grin at each other, and Vex traces the rim of her mug gently with her finger, eyes focused on the lazy sprawl of Jarett’s body against the chair. “So,” she says, “how does this compare to bartending?”

“Hmm,” Jarett says. “Well, I know you said stressed corporate types looking for caffeine before work wouldn’t be better than the drunks I was used to, but I have to admit, the company really is a lot better.”

“Yeah?” she says, grinning. “How so?”

“Well, to start with—” he says, and then Keyleth calls out, interrupting him, “Jarett, could you grab some more milk from the fridge in back?”

“Of course,” he says, looking over his shoulder at her and then standing up. “Later, Vex’ahlia.”

“I’ll just be here, monitoring your work,” she says.

“I’ll be sure to keep impressing you, in that case,” he says. “Any tips?”

She’s tempted to tell him to bend over more, but she figures there’s a line in hitting on her employees, and that’s it. “You know what I like,” she says instead, which might not be better.

He grins at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, and she takes another deep sip of her coffee. She’s in so much trouble.

When her brother finally comes back in, with, incidentally, a take away cup of coffee from _another store_ , he takes one look at her and says, “Are you blushing?”

“Fuck off,” she says. “We own a coffee shop. Why did you _buy coffee_?”

“Oh,” Vax says, looking down at the cup. “You told me to take a walk.”

“Walking is free,” she says.

“It’s coffee,” he says. “It cost less than five dollars.”

“Walking is free,” she repeats. “So is coffee here, where we own all of it.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” he says. “You’re the one who kicked me out.”

“And then you bought coffee,” she says. “Why?”

“The barista was hot,” he says. “Okay? You should definitely be able to sympathize with that.”

“Fuck off,” she repeats. “Wait, what? The barista was hot?”

“Basically,” Vax says, sipping his probably expensive coffee. “I walked into Gilmore’s Glorious Grind because I was bored and I thought I’d scope out the competition, and then he flirted me into buying something.”

“You’re a disappointment,” she tells him. “Didn’t I just make a no dating rule?”

“Wasn’t that rule supposed to apply to both of us?” he says. “I don’t think I’m the one most likely to break it first.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, sticking her nose in the air.

He eyes her. “Ten bucks say you break the rule first.”

“Done,” she says instantly. “Easiest ten bucks I’ve ever made.”

“That’s what you think,” he says, grinning.

—

And he might be right, because after a week later, she’s calling Pike and saying, “On, like, a scale of one to ten, how incredibly morally wrong is it to hit on people you’re paying?”

“Hi, Vex,” Pike says. “It’s so great to hear from you! And, I guess… I mean, Scanlan does it all the time.”

“Not paying like that,” Vex says. “He works at the coffee shop.”

“Oh,” Pike says. “Okay. And you have been hitting on him, or you’d like to?”

“I’ve been hitting on him,” Vex says. “I’m trying to decide if I have to stop, or if I could—”

“Ask him out?” Pike says, when she doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Well. Yeah?” Vex says. “But is that bad? Like, because I’m in a position of power over him, or whatever? Will it seem like he has to say yes, because otherwise I could fire him?”

“But you wouldn’t,” Pike says.

“Well, of course I _wouldn’t_ ,” Vex says. “But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t maybe seem like maybe he can’t say no.”

“That was a lot of doesn’t and maybes,” Pike says, laughing. “But I see your point. You’ve been flirting with him, right?”

“Like, a lot,” Vex says, slumping back against her headboard and glaring at the closed door to her bedroom, where, with any luck, her brother _isn’t_ listening at the keyhole. “But that’s sort of just how I talk to people, so I think it probably isn’t that bad.”

“Right,” Pike says. “But is he flirting back? Not just, you know, smiling and letting you say whatever you want, but actually flirting?”

Vex thinks about it. “I think so? But that might just be the way he talks to people too.”

“Is it?” Pike says. “It’s not like you’ve only ever spent time with him one-on-one.”

“I’m not sure,” Vex admits. “Sort of? He does the, you know, the banter thing, so he kind of goes off of however someone else is talking to him. He definitely flirts with customers. But it _feels_ like he’s flirting? With me, I mean.”

“He definitely might be,” Pike says. “I’m not there, so I can’t actually say for sure, but—Vex, if you think he might be interested, go for it. Make it clear that his interest in you has absolutely no bearing on whether or not he can work for you, and then ask him out. It’s not like this group has a habit of not dating coworkers.”

“Yeah, and that went so well last time,” Vex mutters. “We should all follow Vax and Keyleth’s example.” She sighs. “You really think it’s a good idea?”

“I don’t think it’s as bad of an idea as you seem to,” Pike says. “Do you trust him?”

It’s hard to, what with the constant, creeping fear on the back of her neck that he’s spying on them. She wants to, certainly, but she knows as well as anyone else in her line of work that that means less than nothing. “I don’t know,” she says at last. “I can’t be sure.”

“Well,” Pike says, sounding sad, “I think that’s a bigger problem than the other one, honestly.”

“Ouch,” Vex says. “Way to be a downer, Pike.”

“Sorry!”

“No, no, I’m kidding, I know you’re right,” Vex says, picking at a loose thread on the edge of her comforter. “I wish you were here.”

“Aww,” Pike says. “Me too. I was going to try and come when you got hurt, but Keyleth said she was taking care of it, and I was pretty busy anyway. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Vex assures her. “It wasn’t that bad, honestly. There was just a lot of blood, and everyone kind of panicked. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, I’m going to worry anyway,” Pike says. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”

“I miss you,” Vex says.

“I miss you too,” Pike says. “But you can always call me, whenever you want, and I’ll always pick up. No matter what.”

“Thanks, Pike,” Vex says, smiling down at the bedspread. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

—

She’s finally physically well enough to actually start taking shifts at the coffee shop again, though only if they aren’t rush times. It’s a relief, just having something to do that isn’t lying on the couch at home stroking Trinket’s ears.

Still, when she tries to help Jarett close up one night, she stretches to replace a stack of plates on a shelf and almost drops them when her side cramps up abruptly, like a rubber band suddenly stretched taught and trying to compress itself again. “Fuck,” she says, putting the plates back on the counter and bending over, pressing her hands to her stomach. “Fucking fuck. If I ever see the guy who shot me again, remind me to shoot him right back.”

“I’ll do that,” Jarett says, sounding amused, and then he’s lifting her up easily and depositing her onto the front counter, next to the cash register. “Sit there. I’ll do it.”

“I’m supposed to be working,” Vex says, though she doesn’t get down again. “The whole point of me being here is that you don’t have to do it all yourself.”

“Mm,” Jarett says, replacing the plates on the shelf easily. “That’s less helpful if you hurt yourself and then your brother stabs me in my sleep.”

“We don’t really kill people that often,” Vex says, before it occurs to her that that’s probably a weird thing to say.

“I think your brother might make an exception, under the circumstances,” Jarett says, starting to clean the cappuccino maker.

“Yeah,” Vex says, watching him. “We steal things,” she adds impulsively, stupidly. “We don’t kill people, we steal things. Me and my brother and our friends. There’s a temperature and humidity controlled storage locker with a Van Gogh and a Renoir in it that are too hot to unload right now. The souvenir Vax brought back for me from Bruges is something he stole from some incredibly rich asshole. We’re criminals. I got shot because Percy and I robbed the mafia.”

Jarett stops moving, his back to her. “Huh,” he says.

“The coffee shop is a front and a money laundering thing,” Vex says, going for broke. “You are officially an accessory to a crime, but if we ever get arrested, I promise to tell everyone you knew nothing.”

Jarett turns around then, leaning back against his hands. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Right,” Vex says. “So if you’re going to turn us in or inform on us to the feds, that’s my official confession. You can get your arresting on.”

In all the time she’s known him, Jarett’s never looked so surprised. “What?” he says.

“I had a friend do a background check,” Vex says. “And he says you’re fine, but I couldn’t be sure, and I want to be sure. So either arrest me or don’t, but I want to know whether or not you’re here to fuck us up.”

Jarett opens and closes his mouth several times. Finally, he says, “Why would I arrest you? You pay me.”

Vex stares at him, and then she puts her face in her hands and laughs helplessly.

She feels him step forward, right in front of her, and then he says, “No, really. You just gave me a raise. I don’t want to mess that up.”

She lifts her head, tilting it up so she can look at him properly, the laughter still bubbling up in her stomach. She’s smiling, probably too brightly. “That’s very sensible of you,” she says.

“I’m usually a very sensible man,” Jarett says, grinning at her.

“Just usually?” she says. “That’s very inconsistent of you.”

“Well, almost always,” he says. “But right now, I think I’m going to hit on my boss.”

Vex nods solemnly, trying to disguise the stupid fluttery feeling in her stomach. “I understand,” she says. “Scanlan is very attractive.”

“And very charming,” Jarett says, taking another small step forward so that he’s standing right in between legs. “I do enjoy making him latte art.”

“You’re making other people latte art?” Vex says, before she can stop herself.

“No,” Jarett says, and then he kisses her.

“This is very ethically dubious,” she says when they break apart.

“You steal things for a living,” he says.

“Good point,” she says, and she puts her arms around his neck and draws him back.

When they stop kissing again, pulling back to breathe heavily, she says, suddenly remembering, “Goddamnit.”

Jarett raises his eyebrows at her. “Problem?”

“I bet my brother ten dollars he’d start dating someone new before me,” she says, disgusted with herself. “Now I’m going to have to _pay_ him.”

Jarett snorts and starts laughing, pressing the back of his hand against his mouth to muffle it.

She hits him on the shoulder, but lightly. “I _hate_ paying people.”

“Yes, I understand,” he says, still laughing. “Here.” He digs in his pocket for a moment, and eventually holds up a ten dollar bill. “I kissed you. I’ll pay him.”

Vex stares at the money, feeling slightly faint. “I think I love you.”

Jarett laughs harder. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about the ten dollars or me.”

She grins up at him, taking the ten and tucking it under one of her bra straps. “Who cares?” she says. “You’re both fucking hot.”

“Just what a man likes to hear,” he says, and then he kisses her again, and she pulls him close, feeling the slight crinkle of the bill against her skin as he presses his chest against hers.

Vax is never going to let her hear the end of it, but it’s pretty fucking fantastic.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thank you, Rose. Love you.
> 
> If you'd like to say hi, please, by all means, leave a comment or come visit my [tumblr](https://attilarrific.tumblr.com)!


End file.
